


S4 Fix-It

by RobinMistySaddle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Gen, Home Improvement, LITERALLY, Sherlock (TV) Season/Series 04 Fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 02:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10935537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinMistySaddle/pseuds/RobinMistySaddle
Summary: A patience grenade destroyed their flat.  See what happens next!





	S4 Fix-It

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by [this post](http://doctornerdington.tumblr.com/post/160698810368/shermad-the-restoration-of-baker-street-hey) by Dr. Nerdington

“What do you think?” John asked as he wandered around the room. “That was a rather efficient device.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything. The room, once so neat, was disheveled with a coating of ash and charred pieces of wood and other debris covering every exposed surface. He ran his hand through his hair as he looked about. Scattered here and there were various items and trinkets, some in better condition than other. “The bison skull,” he exclaimed. He leaned over, picked it up, and examined it. “This appears to have survived relatively in tact.” He turned to John.

John stood next to the fireplace holding the headphones. “What a coincidence. So dose this.” He walked over and put them back on the skull where they had sat. “Do you think it can be fixed?”

“I think,” Sherlock declared, “If we don’t give it a try, we’ll never know.”

John slowly walked over to the opposite side of the room, dragging his fee through the debris, seeing if he could uncover anything.

“My chair...” Sherlock trailed off. It lay upside down, but the legs weren’t broken. Carefully holding the skull in his left arm, he reached down with his right and was able to turn it upright. “I do believe it’s looking up.”

“Unfortunately, I think that’s just about all that’s salvageable,” John said from where he crouched on the floor before standing back up and glancing around. “Right. Let’s go back to the start.”

* * *

A week later the workmen were there to clean the flat out. John stood by the fireplace with his hands on his hips supervising the work. “Do you want to pay attention to what they’re doing in case they uncover something we missed?” John asked.

Sherlock was back in his chair, settled in, and back on his mobile. “No,” he curtly replied. 

Mrs. Hudson poked her head in. “Are they doing the job properly?”

“Yes,” John said. “Don’t worry about a thing. Are you sure we can’t help pay for this.”

“Oh, no.” Mrs. Hudson carefully picked her way around the piles of debris that were being consolidated. “That’s what insurance is for. And whatever that doesn’t cover, well, I believe that Mycroft is making sure the British Government is doing it’s part as well. He has so many messes to clean up right now.” She looked over at Sherlock. “What’s he up to? Work?”

John shook his head. “Hopefully following my advice.”

* * *

“The damage looks mostly superficial,” John said when they returned a few days later. 

Sherlock glanced around. “Mrs. Hudson said the carpenters will be here next week, and once the walls and floors are done, new windows installed, they can begin to hang the wallpaper.”

“Should we be picking out wallpaper? Maybe something a little less dour?

Sherlock stared at him.

“No,” John said. “Of course not.”

* * *

They were still hanging the wallpaper on the front wall when John walked in determinedly. “Just popped round the DIY store?” Sherlock asked glancing over at him. 

John walked over to the wall opposite the fireplace. “No. Greg had it and said I could borrow it. I’m pretty sure he knew what I intended to do.” He held a can of yellow spray paint and deliberately painted a smiley face to the horror of the wallpaperers who watched. He turned to Sherlock. “You know what you need to do.”

Sherlock grinned and grabbed his pistol off of the newly restored mantle. He walked across the room, opening up the chamber to check to make sure it was loaded. With a flick of his wrist the chamber popped back into place and he calmly squeezed off two shots. He casually blew across the top of the barrel like a cowboy. “What?” he asked as everybody stared at him. “You would do the same thing.”

* * *

Eventually the furniture arrived. The list that Sherlock had provided Mycroft had been spot on. John looked around, barely believing that only a few months ago the room had been destroyed.

Sherlock walked in. “Post just came,” he announced as he walked to the fireplace, waving a letter. He picked up the knife lying on the mantle and stabbed the letter, pinning it to the wood. “A letter of apology from my dear brother.”

“That’s appropriate,” John agreed.

Mrs. Hudson walked in. “Lovely, just as good as it was before.” She paused. “There’s a man downstairs, asking if you are in.” She turned and headed back out the door. “Oh,” she called, “and I’m not your housekeeper...or receptionist.”

John looked at Sherlock. “Ready?”

Sherlock grinned. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please check out my other works


End file.
